Decisions of the Heart
by Cheerfully Cynical
Summary: When an unsub manages to capture the team, Spencer's one job is to make sure the team makes it out alive. He could have never guessed the consequences of his decision. Reid!centric, Reid!Whump, Team Fic, Kidnapping Fic. Season four!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Decisions of the Heart**

 **Summary:** When an unsub manages to capture the team, Spencer's one job is to make sure the team makes it out alive. He could have never guessed the consequences of his decision. Reid!centric, Reid!Whump, Team Fic, Kidnapping Fic. Season four!

 **Rating per chapter: T** Mild violence, some language, mentions of kidnappings.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own anything…Except my unsub.

 **A/N:** Hello Criminal Minds lovers! I am a new fan, yay! I started this show three weeks ago, and am now on the first episode of season 12. I began to write this when I was watching **season four** , so this a little reminder that Prentiss is on the team, Maeve hasn't happened yet, and Spencer is officially off dilaudid. I believe that is all you have to remember. (Honestly after the binge I did, I have no idea where seasons start and end, lol). I hope you enjoy this Reid filled whump story!

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Reid didn't know where he was.

For a moment, terror flooded his veins. All logical thought left his mind, and he was left straining against the pressure on his wrists; endlessly tugging on the rope that he was attached to. " _Not again."_ His mind whispered, over and over again, tormenting him. He couldn't do this again.

"Reid!"

Someone was calling his name. The voice sounded familiar. It was familiar. He had to answer that voice. Someone calling his name like that meant the person was worried; the next step in worry being fear. Fear could lead to aggression in a hostage situation-

Hostage situation. Just last week Reid had stop someone from shooting innocent people to get to her boyfriend. The team was with him, and he trusted the team.

The team was with him here. When Reid opened his eyes, he realized that he had miscalculated. He should have realized that any light was going to aggravate him. Blinking and shaking his head, he forced his eyes open once again.

Everything was fuzzy. He comprehended that there were four figures in front of him, moving, and sitting stiffly on chairs-wooden chairs. Moving his wrists, he grasped that there were ropes attaching him to a similar chair.

The only lone lightbulb was blinking in and out (or was his vision doing that?). Was he drugged? Concussed? What had happened to him? Who were the other figures?

"Reid!"

His name. The same person was repeating his name over and over again, confusing him. Right, his team was there with him. It was someone on his team.

Blinking rapidly, he forced himself away from the fuzzy feeling in his head and _really_ looked.

He spotted Morgan first. He was a mess; blood was dropping from a cut on his forehead into his right eye. He was struggling with the ropes, causing more blood to start from his wrists and drip onto the floor. Instantly his mind supplied him with a small time frame of how long they had been taken: approximately three hours.

He was also the one calling out to him.

"Hey, Pretty Boy," Morgan stopped struggling. Why would he do that? They needed to get out? Oh, he was worried about him. His mind was fuzzy once again. "You okay?"

Reid found himself nodding, his head nearly rolling. "What-" He coughed. His throat was scratchy and rough. He needed water. "What happened?"

"The unsub took us," Rossi replied. Reid's eyes slowly moved over to him. He was exactly like Morgan – head wound, bleeding badly – but he wasn't trying to escape. If anything, he looked calm. Reid knew him well enough to know that he was anything but calm. "We were the ones he wanted the entire time."

"Are you sure?" Prentiss asked, causing Reid to direct his attention to her. Why were none of them drugged? It didn't matter. Prentiss looked relatively unharmed. It must have been a surprise attack from behind. The unsub knocked both Morgan and Rossi with a head wound. He wouldn't suddenly change his M.O. That wouldn't make any sense.

And there was another thing; while the rest of his teammates were in a line, he was left on the other side of them, able to see each one of their faces. Why single him out?

He didn't feel right, nor did he feel a wound on his head. No, they unsub _had_ drugged him, but only him. Was he after him? Was there a case directly connected to him? His mind supplied him with the names of each case he had ever worked on, but none of them stood out.

"Reid." Hotch-it was Hotch once again. He must have lost focus.

"I'm okay." He told them, trying to let the words calm himself as much as the rest of the team. Where were JJ and Garcia? Had they not been taken or where they in another room?

"What do you last remember?" Rossi asked, still looking as if this was a casual occurrence for the man. Reid wasn't surprised by his behavior.

Before he could respond (JJ had just left in one of the SUVs. He was patiently waiting for the next one to get back on the jet home. _That explains why JJ and Garcia weren't they; the unsub could only take one car.)_ a noise startled him.

Above him, a cellar door opened with a loud _creak_. A part of the floor opened up behind his team. (the heat; they were in an attic. However, it was _redone_ attic. It had white sheetrock walls. Had the unsub built it just for this?) The wooden ladder soon descended with it, and a man walked up. He was well built, _too_ perfect. His movements seemed _practiced_ , almost as if he was trained to walk in a certain way. Military?

When the man had reached the last step, Reid suddenly realized how small the room was. It would maybe 150 square feet, the average size of an American bedroom. To fit, the rest of his team were next to each other, hands nearly allowed to touch if it weren't for the ropes. Nothing else was in the room.

The room was too small. A cabin floated to the forefront of his mind. He blinked, then it was gone. What stood in its place was a blue eyed, short brown haired _calm_ man.

"I've waited…" The man took a deep breath, and slowly walked over to him, his hand nearly touching his forehead. He found himself leaning away from his touch. " _So long_ to meet you, Dr. Spencer Reid."

Curiously, the man wasn't looking at his team at all. It was as if they weren't even in the room. No, he stared at him, his eyes never leaving his own. Reid tried to keep composed. If the man desired him, he could use that to his advantage.

"I – uh – seemed to be at a l-loss," He said softly, ignoring the wide eyed looks his team was giving him. "You know my name-"

"-But you don't know mine." The man practically sung the words. The words sounded out of place for such a controlled person. While his movements were thought out, his words discredited that. They were quick, nearly rapid fire. This unsub didn't hesitate.

"E-exactly." It took everything in him to say the word. While the man didn't have a weapon, he had a feeling that he didn't need one to inflict pain.

The man's demeanor changed in an instant. Reid realized his mistake too late. Without warning, the man lashed out; a harsh right hook to the face left him feeling dazed. Dimly, he heard his team mates cry out to him ( _"leave him alone, you bastard! Pick on someone your own size, man!")._ Not willing to be defenseless, he forced himself to open his eyes once again.

Their capture was smiling at him, his white teeth nearly sparkling in the dim light. (Wealthy? That didn't fit the rest of the profile). Reid swallowed, the action giving him just a little bit of confidence.

"Don't ask stupid questions," the man told him, kneeling down to the right of him, eye level with him. Spencer's heart rate went up. He could feel the man's breath on his arm. "you're smarter than that, I assume?"

His head throbbed. No doubt there was a red mark on his left temple, soon to be a shade of purple. For once, he forced himself to stay quiet. Keeping quiet while with a narcissist could enrage him – _would_ enrage him, but that was the point: make him so angry that he would slip up. Finally, he moved his eyes away from the unsub and directly in front of him.

Prentiss stared back at him. Like Rossi, she was composed, but he could see the worry in her eyes. He nodded at her, ever so slightly, giving any comfort he could. He would not let his team suffer because of him.

"Oh come now," the man's words burned with acid. The fake compassion was stifling. They were dealing with a mad man. "don't be like that. I've waited _forever_ to talk to you."

The words surprised him. How long had this man been watching him? He continued to stare at Prentiss, refusing to look at him.

"What do you want?" Prentiss asked, he words devoid of emotion. An average person would have been scared; would have nearly yelled the question. Instead, Prentiss handled it with grace, asking the essential question as if it were something as mundane as dinner.

The man didn't even turn to look at him. Reid could feel his stare on his neck, causing his skin to crawl. "Oh," he replied, now touching Reid's arm. He took everything in him not to move. "Spencer here should know. After all, he killed my brother."

He was so startled that he turned his head to look at him. The man was _still_ smiling. He was excited. Spencer's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. "What?" He found himself whispering, unable to stop the word.

The calm man was gone in a flash. With a growl, the man moved over to Morgan and revealed a small knife. Before Spencer could process what was happening, the knife was on Morgan throat.

"You see," the man said, breathing deeply. He was enjoying this. "I've thought for _years_ about what I could have done differently to help my brother. To me, he had been so _normal_ – just a regular annoying younger brother."

The knife was bleeding red with Morgan blood. Morgan didn't say a word. How could he?

"But then I _realized_ – it wasn't me! It was _you!_ There was no reason for him to die!" Spencer watch in horror as the knife made a slow cut ( _there wasn't that much blood. It must be superficial. The man didn't want to hurt them yet. This was a scare tactic.)_ across Morgan's neck. In response, Morgan began to thrash in his chair, but it did nothing to stop him.

"But _you_!" The red knife moved away from Morgan's throat and was now pointed at him. "Oh _you_ had to kill him, didn't you? He was just _that_ much of a psycho."

The words weren't phrased as a question, but Spencer knew that he wanted him to answer it. He licked his dry lips, trying to gain _something_ from the action. Was the key being sympathetic? "No-no one deserves to die. I'm sorry."

The man _laughed._ It was a loud chuckle, echoing around the room. "Don't pretend to _care._ You don't even know who I'm talking about, do you? All of them must run together."

He was ashamed to admit it, but some days they did. One case after the other, washing away some of the faces. Some stuck with him, but others were left in the back of his mind, never to be dealt with again. Yes, he had an eidetic memory, but names could only take him so far. He could block the names meanings if he found that they were no longer needed. But, this meant he had nothing he could use to defend himself. Nor did he know what to say to stop him.

"What the hell do you want, man?" Morgan said, glaring at his capture. The blood on his neck was running onto his shirt. "An apology?"

"I want you to _suffer_ ," Reid's stomach dropped. Images of Tobias Hankel's torture ran around in his mind. His foot ached in response. "I want you to feel the pain I felt; being helpless to help your own _family."_

Of course, an unsub that managed to take B.A.U. would be controlled. Reid had no doubt that this man was capable of anything in this state. Though insane, he wasn't pushed to insanity; there wouldn't any mistakes unless something went truly wrong in his plan.

The worst part? Most cases like this ended in suicide by cop. They would have to wait for the rest of the team to find them.

"Hurt me." Reid told him softly, refusing to look at the rest of team. "Hurt me, not them." The sound of his family's denial was ringing in Reid's ears, but it was background noise to him. All of his senses were focused on the mad man in front of him.

The unsub laughed again, just as chilling as the first time. He walked back over to him, once again kneeling to the right of him. "You will get your fair share, most of it in fact." The man smiled and placed the tip of the knife on Reid's arm. Its cold tip stilled Reid. "But that isn't quite the hurt I'm looking for."

The knife was moved, thankfully not cutting him. However, it's cold was replaced with the man's right hand on his own; a mocking comfort. Reid tried to move his hand away out of a sheer reflex, but the ropes stopped him. "See," The man looked straight into his Reid's eyes, searching for something. "I want you all to feel the pain I felt. And to do that…"

The unsub now turned towards the team. Reid looked over to see both fear and determination in each of their eyes. "I'm going to allow you to send them home."

"What?" The word was forced out of him once again. The mere idea of the unsub willingly sending them home was _insane_. He was winning! Why change that?

"It comes with a price!" The man said, obviously ignoring him. The giddy excitement was present again. "Every person equals a month."

Reid was truly lost. For the first time, he found a puzzle that he couldn't make out. "I don't understand."

"Come _on!"_ The unsub yelled, frustrated. "I thought you were supposed to be smart. Each person you send back equals a month that you'll stay with me. And as you can see…" The man nodded to the wall behind him. Seeing the looks of fear on his teammates face only confirmed what Reid would find if he turned his head; weapons.

Reid didn't turn around to look at the wall.

"It'll be painful."

A pin could have dropped and he could have heard it. Reid felt sick. He already knew how this would go. He wasn't going to let his team get hurt because of him. He refused. "You won't hurt them?" He asked, ignoring Rossi's knowing look.

"Cross my heart." The man told him. It was the first time that he sounded sincere. Reid couldn't – didn't spot a lie.

"And if we stay?" Hotch asked before Reid could tell him his answer. Reid's eyes traveled over to his boss. It was clear to see Hotch's own need to protect him. Reid wasn't going to let him.

"Then Agent Reid is free to go." Reid felt physical pain at the idea. He longed to get out of the ropes attaching him to the room. "I mean, you'll all be dead, but at least our little doctor here is free."

It was basic math: one life versus four. Reid already knew his choice.

"Let them all go." Reid's voice didn't weaver. It was easy; his life for his family. He could handle whatever the unsub had planned for him. He would endure anything for four months if it meant they were safe.

The unsub smiled, all pearly white teeth showing. "I was hoping you were going to say that." Reid looked at each of the faces of his family. Though none of them said anything, he could practically read their thoughts. " _We'll find you."_

The unsub moved behind him. Reid could hear metal moving (maybe a pipe?). Before he could react, a piece of cloth was placed in his mouth. Shocked, he cried out into the gag. Fear flashed through his system. What was he planning?

"Don't want you saying goodbyes or anything," The unsub said, moving back behind him. Reid wished he could see what he was doing. "After all, I didn't get to say goodbye to my brother."

Reid forced himself to take deep breaths through his nose. Four months with a psychopath. He could do this. He had to do this.

"Oh god, Reid." Prentiss whispered, tears in her eyes. Reid shook his head slightly at her, trying to stop her from showing _anything._ He knew that this unsub wouldn't allow it. He could taste blood; the gag had opened his already split lip.

Reid had a terrible feeling that this was the least of his problems… And it was going to be like that for a long time.

Hotch was the first to go. The unsub had five needles, each filled with some kind of sedative. Just as the unsub stuck the needle in him, Hotch looked into the unsub's eyes and said, "We'll find him." It was a promise.

"I'll love to see you try." The unsub chuckled. It was disturbing. "Actually, I'm sure you will." And with that, Hotch's eyes slowly fluttered closed, and his head fell onto the back of his chair. The unsub untied him and lifted him _easily_ from the chair, and threw him over his shoulder- a perfect fire fighter's move.

The opening to the attic was left open, and they could hear him take Hotch – his boss, his friend, his advisor – downstairs.

Reid wished to say a million things. Give them the profile, ask them to look after his mother, reassure them that they would find him, _ask_ if they would find him, but he was left silent and _useless._

"We'll find you," Prentiss – Emily – said, giving him the tiniest of smiles. "We're the best of the best."

Reid nodded, taking the compliment to them in stride. Of course they would. They did the impossible every day. This would be easy. They had the profile of him, even said he was a brother. And said that his brother was killed by his hand.

Before Morgan could say something, they could once again hear his footsteps again. Reid felt as if he was losing each life line, one by one.

"You're next, Agent Rossi," The unsub uncapped the needle and filling it once again.

This time, Rossi's eyes stayed on Reid's. "You stay strong, kid." And with that, Reid watched the process for a second time. Rossi – an idol become friend – was cut lose… Then gone.

"You're gonna be okay," Morgan told him, looking at him with a fire burning in his eyes. Reid had never seen anyone such passion in anyone before. "We won't rest until we find you."

Reid nodded once again. He had never wished to talk so much in his life.

"You're incredibly brave," Emily said suddenly, surprising him. "You know that?"

Reid began to nod his head in the negative, trying to tell them that they would do the same for him, but the unsub came back once again, this time heading for Prentiss.

"When I see you again," Emily's eyes were hard. If Reid was in the unsub's place, he would have been frightened. She looked almost deranged now. "I _will_ kill you."

"Oh," the unsub reply, still as happy as ever. "I don't intend to live after this, Agent."

Emily Prentiss – Reid's close friend – passed out with wide, shocked eyes. With his heart low in his chest, he watched again as another life line was taken away from him.

"You know I always viewed you as a little brother, right?" Morgan told him suddenly.

Memories flashed in front his eyes: The prank wars, beating Morgan in poker, Morgan ruffling his hair, _Morgan_. It was too much. Tears were in his eyes now. He was scared.

Instead of showing that to his older brother, Reid nodded frantically. He wished he could say the kindness back, but there was nothing he could do.

"Don't anger him, Spencer," Morgan looked anxious now. Reid felt the same. "You don't have anyone to protect now. Just give him what he wants."

Reid, of course, knew all of this, but he let Morgan lecture him. It was easier for him; _focus on what you can control._

The unsub was back once again. "Last but not least!" The unsub made quick work of the needle, even took relish of jabbing it into Morgan's neck.

"You son of a bitch!" Morgan screamed, trying futilely to get out of his bindings. He only succeeded in moving the chair. Seconds later, Morgan eyes closed, gone to reality.

Reid had never felt so alone in his life. It was as if all the hope he had was gone.

He blinked. The unsub was in front of him. How had he once again lost track of time? Lost, feeling nearly weightless, he looked at the ground.

"My name is John." The unsub voice was low, as if he was putting on an act before. Maybe he was. At least now his voice didn't send chills down Reid's spine. Taking the knife that was covered in Morgan's blood, the unsub – John – cut the rope around his ankles. For a brief moment, Reid thought about kicking him, but he quickly remembered their deal; his life for his team.

And Reid knew that _John_ wouldn't hesitate. It some twisted way, John trusted him to stay put. The idea was humiliating. John already had him wrapped around his fingers.

"And just to let you know," The ropes are his wrist disappeared. Spencer quickly brought his hands to his front, rubbing the raw skin. He made sure to look non-threatening. "I did say each team member."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat, and his eyes immediately went to John's face, trying to find any sort of lie. There was none.

"No…" Spencer whispered, feeling another part of his soul die.

"Unless you _want_ Jennifer and Penelope to get a little visit," The man's voice was once again giddy. Not an act then. "You can, obviously, keep it to four months."

Reid's body was reacting of his own accord. He was already shaking his head in the negative. Six months, half and year: 26 weeks, 182 days, 4,380 hours, and 262,800 minutes. "Six months." He agreed, voice surprising steady.

His team would find him before that. They promised.

The unsub's – John's teeth sparkled in white room. "Excellent." John moved behind him once again. The sound of metal tormented Reid's ears once again. Would the torture begin already? There was no way. John had to get his team back, otherwise they would wake up in what Reid assumed was van.

Without warning, Spencer felt a sharp pinch on his neck. He hissed.

"Wouldn't want to leave you here now, would we?" John was once again in front of him. He put his hand on Spencer's, a quick invasion of person space. Out of pure instinct, Spencer flinched his hand away…But didn't. He wasn't able to. The world around him was spinning.

"After all," Spencer could barely hear the words now. They floated on the edge of his subconscious. He could feel himself bend forward, his head on his knees. "don't want your team getting any hints. Going to have to change locat…"

Reid's last thought was of the team; the day that they had rescued him from Tobias. He could see each of their worried faces, their relief, their comforting smiles…

…He was gone.

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 **A/N: So…What did you think? Who did Reid kill? Who is this mysterious unsub? What is he going to do Reid?**

 **How's my writing? It's been A LONG TIME oh my goodness. I'm pretty busy, so it was nice to go into a Netflix binge and emerge with new story ideas. I missed writing! But seriously, any major errors? Plot holes yet? Good idea? How's the team's reactions?**

 **Now listen my people. I'm one of those writers that needs outside motivation to continue stories. Send me those reviews! I'm not gonna lie, I'm not sure when I can update, but, for right now, this story is really fun to write and will hopefully get the next chapter out soon!**

 **Thanks for the read! Don't forget to feed the author.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Decisions of the Heart**

 **Summary: When an unsub manages to capture the team, Spencer's one job is to make sure the team makes it out alive. He could have never guessed the consequences of his decision. Reid!centric, Reid!Whump, Team Fic, Kidnapping Fic. Season four!**

 **Rating per chapter: T+ (honestly, I would label it M but I've seen WAY worse also label T, so I'll stick with this) violence, some language, TORTURE**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything…Except my unsub.**

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Jennifer "JJ" Jareau's head was spinning.

Penelope was working furiously on the computer, the taps of her nails on the keyboard being a loud background noise; so loud that she found she couldn't think clearly. Her silent tears were not helping. JJ had no words to comfort her friend. What was there to say when she had no answer?

JJ moved over to the board. Only hours beforehand it had been filled with victims of the unsub Peter Collens. They had brought Garcia along due to the man's computer genius. The B.A.U. needed her to crack it right away. Thankfully, with her help, the case was an easy one (if any cases could be called easy), and had a happy outcome. The girlfriend had lived, and only two had died in total. It should have been a quick trip home.

Then, something had happened. Something that wasn't connected to the case at all.

"All of their phones just shut off, GPS included," Garcia's voice was filled with worry. Tears made her usually peppy attitude fade away. "I-I can't track any of them."

JJ gave her an uneasy smile. "We'll find them, Garica."

Garcia nodded, giving back her own version of a smile. "Of course we will!" She began tapping away on the keyboard once again. "I'll be ready to track their phones as soon as they-"

A loud _ding_ interrupted her. It obviously shocked Garcia. "D-Derek's phone just turned on!" She exclaimed. "A-and now Hotch's!"

JJ already had her FBI vest on. "Where?"

More tapping. JJ had never realized how much the noise was blocked out over the phone. It put her on edge.

"H-here!" She replied quietly, obviously more alarmed than anything. "A-all of them are right outside - Blaker's street!"

With that, JJ stormed out of the small police station. Her heart was beating in her chest; everything was going in slow motion. What was wrong with her? No, there wasn't something unnatural going on. She was scared – _terrified_ – to find out what had been done to her team. How could she have let this happen?

By the time she pushed open the doors open the doors, she was too late.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Derek had woken up with the worst headache imaginable.

It was something unusual for him. Even when he had a hangover, he made sure that it was manageable, and that he would be able to get up and move without too much trouble. It was his job to be ready for everything.

Now? He didn't know how he was breathing, let alone standing. Was he standing? The only thing he could see were... red and blue fireworks? No, that wasn't quite it. Whatever he was seeing, it was too bright to see. He blinked multiple times, but it did nothing to change the outcome.

Worse yet, he could feel himself moving. He could tell that he was in a car, but he didn't know the basic answers? Where, how, why, when…? None of it made sense.

And then he realized…

He was in his own personal hell.

He remembered Reid's – No, Spencer's – face. He wasn't SSA Dr. Spencer Reid at that moment. He was Derek's best friend; practically a brother. In the moments the Derek remembered, Reid wasn't an FBI agent, he was a stupidly heroic family member trying to put on a brave face.

With that, Derek forced himself to will the headache and really _looked._

He was standing. In front of him was…No, it couldn't be? Wasn't he just in a car? Once more, he blinked…

He was at the police station that they had just helped finish a case with.

JJ was rushing towards him, her blonde hair making her appear more heavenly than Morgan thought possible. His thoughts her jumbled, and everything was going too slow. JJ was talking to him, even putting a hand on his arm, but he couldn't _feel_ it. Instead, he could only watch in confusion as he registered the hand on his shoulder.

His lack of response must have scared her. She was shaking him a little now, repeating a word over and over again.

"Morgan!"

Everything rushed back to him faster than he could process.

"I'm okay," He told her, now putting a hand on her shoulder. He finally noticed that the rest of his team were coming around too. Emily was still lying on the alley way, clearly unconscious. Hotch and Rossi, however, were standing. Rossi was attempting to rouse Emily, but she wasn't moving. Rossi nodded at him when he found a pulse. Morgan felt his heart start to calm. They were okay.

Most of them were okay.

Hotch was giving orders to JJ. Morgan's hearing (or maybe brain function) was coming back with every second passing. "- and get Garcia to track Reid's phone. I also want to see the surveillance video from the police station. Maybe they caught a plate."

JJ nodded, looking as professional as she could. Her mask was firmly in place. Who had told her about Reid? How much time had passed? "First, I'm calling an ambulance. We have no idea what this guy gave you."

Hotch looked ready to protest, but one glare from JJ and he shut his mouth, shocking Morgan. Hotch must also be feeling the effects of the drug. There was no other way he would allow himself to go the hospital while a team member was down.

He looked around, expecting Reid to come up with a list of half a dozen drugs that would cause these side effects. He felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. Reid couldn't do that. He wasn't with them. He was with the unsub.

"We have to find him," Morgan muttered, looking at Hotch.

Hotch nodded, "We will. But first we need to regroup."

Morgan felt the anger building in his chest. Regroup? They didn't have time for that! Reid could be…God, could be getting tortured right now! They had to stop it!

Garcia was there in an instant. When had she arrived? "Derek," She told him, voice devoid of emotion. Derek had _never_ seen this side of her. The roles had reversed. For once, Garcia was stronger than him. "we'll get him back. I'll search through the videos myself, okay?"

He forced himself to take a deep breath, _trying_ to get his anger under control. Without a word, Morgan gathered Garcia into a hug.

"We'll get him back," She repeated, now sounding like the Garcia he knew; always hopeful. "We'll get him back."

"I know, Baby Girl."

He looked up just in time to stop the colorful lights of two ambulances coming towards them.

Rossi's eyes found his own. His were filled with unshed tears. "I know." He repeated to her, holding her close.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Reid woke up to fear.

Instead of the weight of ropes against his wrist, he felt a different, heavier weight on his ankle. Opening his eyes, he forced himself to look down at himself. He was, thankfully, free of anything around his hands, and he gladly moved his wrist, trying to get the blood flowing once again. What was more alarming was the large metal cuff around his right ankle.

The idea of being chained scared Reid more than he cared to admit. He found himself yanking at the chain without even realizing what it was connected to. Looking up, he realized that he was in…A bedroom?

It appeared to be a normal bedroom. He was sitting on top of a hard, twin mattress, the only cover being a thin blue sheet. The four walls were white (no windows, the only light was from a singular ceiling light) and, looking straight ahead of him, he spotted a similar colored bathroom maybe five feet away. It was small and did not have a door. Looking to the left of him, he spotted a different door.

He quickly got up from the bed, only wincing when he heard the horrible sound of metal slid across the old wood floor. He realized that the chain was attached to the wall, literally screwed into one of the beams of the small bedroom. When he walked to the door, he realized that the chain would only allow him to make it maybe another five feet out the door. Even if it wasn't locked (which it was, much to Reid's disappointment), he wouldn't be able to get very far. Not only that, but he no longer had his shoes.

He had never been more grateful for socks in his life.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he picked up the chain once again and tried to pry it lose from the wall. There was no hope. It would take an immense force to get the screws out of the wall. With a sigh, he tested out how far the chain would allow him to go.

The unsub had planned everything. The chain allowed him into the bathroom, but would not allow him any further. He was both fearful and thankful to find a shower in the room. There was no mirror, no toilet seat (which mean no screws he could use to pick the lock), no sink, and no cabinets. The only thing left in the room was one roll of toilet paper and a bar of soap. There was nothing in there to use.

Heart beating in his chest, he dragged himself and the chain back into the "bedroom" and sat on the bed, his back against the wall, facing the door. No doubt John would be here soon to torment him.

Torment. He nearly laughed. That was one way to put it. Reid knew exactly what was in store for him. He had a feeling that an already throbbing face would be the least of his problems soon.

Looking up at the ceiling, he spotted what he dreaded would be in here; and video camera. No doubt John was watching every move of his, eager to see him suffer.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to look away from the camera and do something productive instead.

His team was looking for him. They had a profile already. They even had a face! Maybe they had enough information to find him quickly. But he had been moved. He knew the odds of a victim being found when moved to a new location.

Victim. He was a victim now. The label felt wrong, disgusting even. He was an FBI agent. He shouldn't be a victim. No, wait… He could use that to his advantage. He, thankfully, hadn't killed many people in his line of work. And with the profile, he knew exactly who took him.

Reid allowed himself a small smile. He had something against the unsub that he wasn't expect; his brother's name.

His smile was cut off the moment the door to his prison cell slammed open.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Considering everything, kidnapping the team that had killed his brother was easier than he had thought. Sure, he had wanted everyone there for when he forced Dr. Reid to make his choice, but he couldn't complain too much. The looks on their faces were worth it.

He was a little mad at the fact that he did not have one of the original team members captured, but he wasn't capable of finding one Elle Greenaway. However, this Emily Prentiss obviously cared just as much for her team member, so he supposed that it worked itself out.

It was extremely helpful having some knowledge in computers. It had allowed him to trick Penelope Garcia, even getting their cell phones to shut of the GPS to shut off when he wanted, and turn back on ten minutes after the rest of the B.A.U. had been dropped back off at the Police Station.

Not only that, but he had bugged each phone, allowing him to listen to each call and even turn on the camera's when he wanted to see them.

He glanced back to his phone. He knew it was risky using an IP camera to view his prisoner (the word sent a thrill through. He finally had him!), but he had set up a server and even had a dynamic IP address that changed every ten minutes. He could live with the system going down for two minutes if it meant that he wasn't caught so early in the game.

Game. What an interesting word to use. It was a game of trying to capture the team. He had to be ahead of a psychopath for once; to figure out where the B.A.U. team would travel next. Luckily, he had heard about some pyscho killing girls in Texas, and he was eager to rush over there.

Even luckier, it was only two hours from his first location, and the LSD he used with the sedative meant that they had no idea how long it took to drive there.

Researching the B.A.U. was also a good idea on his part. He knew about their so-called profiling, and even used it to his advantage. He made sure to walk like he had in military, to say that it was his brother when really it was someone that _was_ like a brother to him, and to appear as 'crazed' as he could. He _wanted_ the team to know who he was, just not as soon as they would normally.

Phillip Dowd deserved better, but at least he would get revenge on the person that had killed him.

Clicking on his phone, he checked to see if Dr. Reid was awake. Finally, after three hours, he was. The good doctor was walking into the bathroom, testing out the chain. John felt himself smile. How…endearing. Soon enough, it would be a struggle for the man to walking, let alone try to escape his bonds.

He allowed the Doctor to calm himself. He waited until he was sitting on the bed for him to enter the small part of the house. He grabbed the knife – the same that he used to cut agent Morgan – and began to walk to the room that held Dr. Reid. Oh, the room he had created was _perfect_ for what he had planned. It was insulated, which meant the doctor could be as loud as he wanted, but no one could hear him. There was no escaping the room even with the chain on. Plus, Reid would have to pass him in order to leave.

He slammed open the door as hard as he could. He wanted to scare the doctor, and it had obviously did. The man jumped, but was quick to school his features. John smiled wide at him. There was no point in holding back his excitement now.

"Good afternoon, doctor," John closed the door behind him, demonstrating that there was no way Reid could escape the room. The doctor paled, "did you sleep well?"

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Did he sleep well? Of all the questions his capturer could have asked, it was that? He recalled Morgan's words " _give him what he wants."_

Reid knew exactly what he wanted. "No," He answered, his words holding no emotion. He let himself sound defeated. The man wanted him defenseless and beaten. He could do that.

"I'm glad," John replied, moving closer to him. Reid felt himself tense, but he allowed John to get closer to him. He didn't want to anger him. There was no point.

"I-I want proof that my team is alive," He said quickly, his words nearly running together. It was easy to act scared. In fact, it wasn't an act. "Please."

John seemed to consider that. "Seems fair, but it comes with a price."

A price? What was with this unsub and his deals? Would food and water come at a price? And if one of those prices was already staying with him for six months, what would this be? Reid forced himself to nod. It didn't matter what the price was, he needed to know that John held up his part of the deal.

"You see," John revealed to him the knife that was behind his back. Spencer forced himself to not move away from the bed. "Agent Hotchner was there that day too. In fact, he was the one to supply the gun to you."

Reid's heart was beating frantically in his heart. Did John know that Spencer already knew who he was?

"And I would think that _Phillip_ ," Spencer wasn't one to curse, but a particular curse word came to mind "would want both of you to suffer." Spencer swallowed. The knife, still slightly covered in his friend's blood, was now mocking him.

"Move, and you don't get to hear your team," John shrugged, showing him just how much he cared about his fears. "Don't move, and I'll call your team allowing you to hear each of their voices." John placed the tip of the knife directly in the middle of his chest. "Either way, you precious agents will see what I've done to you every week."

Reid looked into John's eyes, looking for anything that would indicate some _sanity_. There was none. The only emotion that John expressed was excitement. Without hesitating, Reid nodded once again.

"Excellent!" John took the tip of the knife off his chest, something Reid found himself grateful for, even if it meant that it would soon cause him more pain. "I think that's a fantastic choice."

Pain – he's been in pain before. He could handle this. It'll be fine. _He'll_ be fine.

"Take off your shirt."

If Reid wasn't looking a John, he wouldn't have believed the words. "W-what?" He asked, suddenly loving the feel of his soft sweater on his arms.

"You heard me, doctor," John waved the knife at him, using it as a threat, "Take off your shirt."

Reid slowly got up from the bed, once again hating the weight around his ankle. He basked in the feeling of being fully clothed before slowly taking off his shirt. It wasn't nearly as bad as what to come, but Reid was never comfortable with anyone looking at him. By now, he had some muscle tone, but that didn't mean it was any better for him to stand in front of _anyone_ half naked, let alone…

He forced himself out of mind. He couldn't over think this. He _had_ to block it all out. He pulled the sweater over his head and let it fall behind him on to the bed. Head held high, he glared _down_ (he was never so thankful to be six one in his life) and waited for…For his fate.

Lance Armstrong, his brain supplied, once said 'pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place.'

"Put your hands on that wall," John gestured to the side of the wall with the door, "your back towards me."

Reid walked over to the wall, the chain once again forced to go with him. He nearly stopped himself. He didn't know if he could allow himself to be in such a compromising position with the unsub. No, he was doing this to see if his team was alive. He needed to know. He couldn't live out these months here without knowing.

With only a small amount of hesitation, he placed his hands on the wall, almost as if he was getting ready to do a push up against it. There was no doubt that he would need the support in order to make himself not flinch.

"I've had _a lot_ to think about over the years I needed to plan this out," John's voice was a whisper on his ear now. He could feel his presence inches behind him. "But the thing _always_ on my mind was how to hurt you the most. You see, I wanted to make sure that even when I let you go-" Reid's eyes widened. The unsub truly meant to let him go? "And, yes, I will make good on our deal, you will be _broken."_

Reid bit his tongue. He couldn't say anything. He was doing this to hear his team.

"And I thought," He continued. Reid stiffened when he felt the cold blade of the knife lay flat on his left shoulder blade. "What would make him remember this every. Day. Of. His. Life?" John snapped his fingers, startling Reid. "A word that he would never forget."

With that, the blade was forced into his upper shoulder. The pain was intense, nearly sending him to his knees. He wasn't expecting it. There was no way to prepare him for this. He – he had to distract himself. He wasn't going to last long enough if every cut was like this.

What was the word? What was he carving into him?

No, those thoughts wouldn't help – couldn't help right now. He had to send himself somewhere else.

 _Stars_. He saw stars. John was now dragging the blade to the right, closer to his spine. His arms shook. A sudden image of his mother came to mind.

" _Spencer," She was smiling at him, one of her more sane days. He was only nine. "Any time you want to escape reality," She had tapped on her favorite books. It had been a poem book by Edgar Allen Poe, "Read. Come on, baby, read with me."_

He took a deep breath; escape reality.

 _From childhood's hour I have not been_

The blade was ripped out of him, causing him to hiss and look up at the ceiling. He had to stay still. He had to do this. Focus on the book.

 _My sorrow - I could not awaken_

 _My heart to joy at the same tone -_

 _And all I lov'd - I lov'd alone -_

The sharp edge was now at his vertebra, near his thoracic nerves. Each time the knife moved, Spencer's felt another part of himself die. This was too much. Could he do this?

 _From the thunder, and the storm -_

 _And the cloud that took the form_

The knife was now near his lower right hip.

 _Of a demon in my view –_

Reid turned his head, just in time to see his true demon. This monster held the knife _coated_ in blood in his hand. He was breathing deeply, either due to the strain of carving into his back or the simple exhilarating of hurting him. He didn't know.

"I'm sure," John was out of breath. Spencer felt himself shaking, he could feel his own warm blood slowly drip onto his pants. "You want to know what it says."

Reid didn't answer, only focusing on his breathing and staying upright. This was _bad_ ; worse than what Charles Hankel had done to him by a mile. He didn't know how much longer he could stand.

Without any warning, John took his wrist in a tight grip and tossed him roughly into the wall, his back hitting it harshly. If he had enough air, he would have screamed. With a groan, he opened his eyes. John had thrown him onto the bed. thankfully he had landed on his stomach.

He looked up at John, who was writing something on the white wall in his blood, right in his vision point. When he was done, Spencer felt all the air leave his body.

John looked pleased. "I thought about something more meaningful to _my_ situation, but this felt more…" John took out his cell phone and began tapping away on it. Spencer _prayed_ that he was calling his team. "painful, don't you think?"

John tossed the phone into the middle of the room, far enough that Spencer would have to crawl to get to it.

"Just because I'm feeling generous, I'll let you listen for ten minutes." John opened the door to his prison, and slammed it close.

The red word on the wall and on his back didn't leave with him.

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 **A/N: The Poem** _ **is**_ **from Edgar Allen Poem. It is titled Alone.**

 **Takes a deep breath! that was a lot in one chapter, oh my gosh. Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! They mean the world to me!**

 **So, how'd I do with Morgan's POV? With John's? With the – erm – torture? Too much?**

 **I think you all guess who John's 'brother' was, so I decided to reveal that already, lol. Nice job everyone!**

 **Now, the knew mystery of the hour! What's the word?**

 **Thanks for reading! Don't forget to feed the author**


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